Ivory Heartbeats
by Materia-Blade
Summary: Some time after one of Ranma and Ryoga's usual forays into the unknown, Ranma falls ill of a mysterious sickness. Slowly, she learns that her very life has been placed directly into her greatest rival's hands. A Ran-chan/Ryo fic.


A/N: Been Reading Ranma-chan/Ryoga fics lately. This is gonna be one. Yes it does use a highly contrived plot device. But I haveth fun. Hopez ya likez! Plot points and permission to use much of the general plot come from DaisukiFox and Obsidians. Oh. And the LoTR reference about a quarter way down. That ain't mine either.

* * *

_Bitter they met and bitter their start,  
Rage and affliction began their art,  
But time and temper softens the heart,  
Makes once more bitter, ordained depart._

* * *

**Ivory Heartbeats**

_"Listen up pig-boy! Don't get lost! I swear to god if you get lost I'm going to kill you! So just don't get lost, okay...?"  
...Please?"_

**Chapter One - Her Fool  
**  
A small candle, and that of the slowly rising dawn, were the only sources of light that flickered throughout the dim room, echoing to highlight its many features. A stone floor and wall that breached into an arched window filled with lightly tinted glass gave the room a hard air at first glance. However, on looking closer, the vanity in the corner holding many a vial of odd perfumes and tinctures, and the light scent of lavender that filled it gave the room a more homey quality.

Clothes were strewn haphazardly about the floor, trailing from the locked door all the way to the bed. A vest here, a tunic there, a dress lying half on and half off the bed and the scent of lust, and only barely sated copulation mingled with the light lavender spawned by the owner of the room. All of these clothes however, belonged solely to a woman.

"I'm tired, Jesral." Uttered a resounding and hardy voice from near the window hovering on the small chair meant for the vanity. "Tired of all this. I just want it to end."

Sitting on a bed crafted of the finest wood, a mattress borne from the feathers of the golden geese of the north, was a girl with deep blonde tresses that spilled onto the pillows. The awning hanging over the lavish cot, which hid its interior with a thin veil of pearly white sheets, was parted slightly to display her. Jesral Bremaester, Lily of the Eventide, Daughter-First of the Emperor Somide. Her long hair, and the blanket slid up to her waist were the only coverings she wore. Her hair shrouded ample breasts, but that did nothing to distract Saam from thoughts of their beauty. Only keeping his eyes turned could even hope to accomplish such a feat and he dared not look upon her, lest he be again lost in her eyes. In her curvaceous form.

Her wondrous lips...

Why had he never seen the beauty in her before? Why had he not seen it until yondereven? Now when... when...

She was silent, for a wonder, and he took the time of peace to stare down. His beloved city. Cheshten. He would do anything to protect it. That was nothing surprising really. The people knew how much he loved his hometown and its many, many denizens. They cheered him for it, and cried with glee at thoughts of his ascension when his father Ahma abdicated. He would give his life to protect Cheshten and anyone borne within its confines. All else fell second. That was the way it always had been.

Or the way it _should_ have been.

But now... Somehow, now there had come to be something else that occupied his fears.

His devonwood armor was heavy and it made the stone room shake as he plodded back towards the bed and away from the opening window that peered down into the village below. "I can't believe I'm saying this..." He began lightly. "But... I want you. I want you to stay here with me. In Cheshten."

The blonde girl's eyebrow twitched, had already been twitching in fact as she knew his every thought. A vein popped on her kissable forehead, visible even in the flickering candlelight. "You're an idiot."

A thousand times a thousand times the girl had said the same thing. And a thousand more had Saam retorted in heated anger. There was no room for that. Not anymore.

"Gods help me, I know." Came his words. Words of a defeated man. A man crushed between devotion and duty. Burdens of responsibility that stung his soul and heart in tandem.

"Saam, you speak lightly of a war that will kill thousands! Worse, they're _my_ people! I can't just... I can't..." Jesral murmured, her voice trailing off into a worried pout. She bit her lower lip and put her finger to it. A staple of her worry. "What went wrong, Saam? It was working..."

Saam sighed and crawled onto the bed to cradle the woman in his arms. She flinched for a moment, then relaxed. "About that... there's something I've been hiding from you..."

The girl blinked. "Hiding? From me? I hear your every thought! How could you hide-?"

"Don't you remember?" He interrupted. "The bond was twofold. It wasn't just meant to show you how to depend on someone. It was also meant to cool my control. I've grown good at not thinking of my secrets in your presence. If... if I must."

_"It's been so unbelievably difficult... but I couldn't let you know."_

The blonde gaped. "You... why would you hide something from me? Why tell me now?"

Saam sighed, placing his hand over his eyes. He didn't say anything but there was no need. She could hear his thoughts through their bond. Their curse. She had heard them as if spoken word. Muffled through a door just as normal speech might be, and his thoughts sounded like a distant hum whenever he was further than that. But now, together, his thoughts were loud as if spoken directly into her ear.

_"My mother isn't sick. She was murdered."_

The gasp was unsurprising. He was used to her reacting to his thoughts instead of his words, and this was no exception. "Gods Saam... She... she was like a mother to me too! How could you hide...! _H-how long?_"

His face took on a forlorn expression, and he looked down at her once more, and Jesral stiffened. The man seemed tense. Worried, apologetic, and piteous all at once as if there were something more for him to drop. As if... as if he'd only revealed a small secret, in preparation for a larger. How...? What could possibly be worse than his own mother's...?

_"Your mother was killed too." _

Jesral didn't react. Not openly. But he could feel pain unlike any he'd ever sensed from her before welling in her heart.

_"My...?"_

"That is why your father's armies are descending. That is why Ahma is so angry. Each believe the other responsible." Saam breathed, finally using his voice instead of his thoughts.

Jesral pushed him back, curling herself into the pillows with a heated glare. "No! No, stopping things like that was what this whole engagement was for! That was what this god-damned curse was _for! I..."_

_'My mother is dead...? It can't be... it just can't...'_

She was denying what was right in front of her. His thoughts and his words matched. There was no lie in his eyes. And... Saam was not a cruel man. Kindhearted. Warm. Loving. These traits described him well. Almost well enough to make her forget his obnoxiousness, or his wanderings eyes.

Hah. She was distracting herself. God how could she think about the perversions of her star-crossed lover when... _when...!_

"No betrothal could stop this feud. There's nothing we can do. Nothing we could have done." He murmured. "Father Ahma always hated Somide. And Somide returned that in kind. Now both want bloodshed, and both with good reason."

Jesral ignored his words. They were touchy, and evasive. She knew his heart, and she knew how much he had loved his mother. She sensed a bitterness in him that had not been there before, and abruptly she discovered what the spindly knot of emotions he had been harboring these past few days was. It was his anger. And... she had to know. "Did my father truly k-kill... kill your mother, Saam?"

The disparity between word and thought was palpable, and Jesral despaired at his answer.

"I... don't know."

_"I believe it so."_

They remained silent for a time. Separate but neither could bear to leave the touch of the other. Jesral felt the cold touch of Saam's devonwood armor but ignored it in favor of wrapping her arms around the man she'd hated for so long. So very long...

"I can't fight my people, Saam. I will not do it. Nor will I remain on the side of those doing the killing. It... is not in me. But if you could come with me...?" The girl asked, her eyes pleading searching his in the flickerlight.

_"I could never..." _Were the words she heard through the bond just before he answered.

"No." Saam spat, disgusted at the very thought. Betray his home? His people? He would rather die... but... Gods how it burned. "You think I am any different? Nation before the heart. We are the same. I won't leave Cheshten."

"I know... I don't think I could feel how I do about you if you could. But I won't stay." The girl replied. Her voice was calm, her heart ripped in twain.

"You can't leave!" Saam replied. "If we are apart for too long you will... you'll..."

"Die." She interrupted. "I know this. Regardless, I will not stay..." Her voice became harder, colder at this as she stared into him. Searching him, and knowing where this was going to lead. Today. The fulfillment. Finally, the curse they had both hated so much... but only now. "But... we can lift the curse now. It is done."

Standing and striding to the door, Saam cursed. "You can't ask me to do that! You can't ask me to let you become my enemy."

"Then you send me to die."

"I'll keep you here! I'll put you in the damn dungeon if I have to!"

"Aye." She said softly. "And then you will kill me when you ride to battle?"

"N-no... I..." Saam searched for words. Words that could prevent inevitability. "I'll take you with me!" He exclaimed, his anger growing. Somehow her voice kept becoming softer, and each note it traveled down gave her words more impact.

Finally she stood, uncaring for her nakedness and the first rays of gold trickling through the lower end of the window. Dawn at last. She strode to him, and again laid her arms across his broad shoulders. Captivating him. Trapping him. "I love you. Saam."

"I-I..."

His words caught in his throat before he could utter them, saved only by mere luck. He would not let her win this way! He couldn't... Every day spent with her. Every day a battle. Fighting her, besting her and losing to her in almost equal portions at anything from the martial arts, to cooking. Their fiery battles that had heated the entire castle. Amused cooks laughing at their antics and fights while they thought he wasn't looking.

_"I love you too." _His thoughts voiced, but he wouldn't let the words touch his lips. If they did... if they did...

More thoughts came. Women betting on how long it would take for the two royal firecrackers to marry. Pranks played on their parents. Their many teachers together when they finally stopped fighting long enough to realize how similar they both were.  
_  
_"You can't make me..." His touch on her bare arms was feather light. His hand swathed aside her hair and uncovered her eyes. His own trailed down her body, but instead of lust he found fear. Fear of losing her. Fear of never seeing her again. Never holding her...

_"I want to grow old with this woman. I want children by her. Sons and daughters alike."_

Even in the dim candle light Saam could see the flush that traveled up her rose red cheeks. "I... do too."

"Then why not stay!" He barked. "Why do you insist on returning? These are your people too!"

They were! She had traveled the roads of this city. Meandered among the folk, and grown loved as much as Saam was in her short time here. Saam recalled the love his people had given her. The shy fondness all had for the fights they would break out in. As if the entire village had seen what they had not. As if they had known love would come from the very beginning. Love. And more importantly to them. Peace.

And now she would leave them? Leave... him?

"Saam. Will you deny it? Deny it while I hear the words in your head...? This is meaningless. I leave today. To die if you refuse to lift the curse, or to live so that maybe one day I can be with you once more." Her words implored him.

Her searching eyes. The cute smile she gave whenever she finally opened just a piece of her heart. Now she was laid bare before him. Dependent once more on him. And as always, he could not fail her. Nor deny truth.

"I... love you, Jesral."

A brief flash of light echoed throughout the room, bursting in pure golden blaze. They both glowed, a blinding light that stung neither of their eyes.

But as soon as it had begun the glow began it faded. And when it was finished, Jesral felt strangely lonely. No longer did thoughts that were not her own travel across her mind. No longer did the buzz of emotion that was her Saam hover around her, a constant reminder of his annoying cocky smirk. His bravery. His lust. Losing these things, she barely noted the lightness just over her heart where the ivory jewel embedded half within her skin had vanished. She wanted to cry. To weep at the loss. But...

...He loved her.

And that was all that mattered. Now she go in peace. From him at least. This war would be brutal, and despite where her heart lay, she would not be on the wrong side.

"I leave now. I will see to my mother's grave." She stated gravely, with a nod to him that did a good job of concealing her breaking heart.

Saam took the moment to put a grin across his face. A sad thing. A small thing. But it was a smile nonetheless.

"No, I think not." He said, in his best imitation of his usual impishness. "You my dear, can leave tomorrow. This day. This one day. You are mine."

Silence echoed throughout the chamber. The candlelight lay a comely touch across the room.

For hours she searched his eyes, and found command there. She couldn't hear his thoughts, but she could see them in his eyes as plain as day. She would _not_ be leaving. Not today. She could kick and squirm all she liked, but that look in his eyes told her that today, she was going to be the wife she should have been at the beginning of this whole fiasco. And... honestly...? She wanted nothing less.

She nodded, eye welling with ruthless puddles of crocodile tears despite her greatest efforts to keep them from her features. Turning to the man she loved, she wrapped her arms around him for what would be the last time...

"So this is what love is like..." Her burdened mind echoed as his fingers roamed her body. As they had last night. As they would for the rest of this one, wonderful... terrible day.

He smiled down at her. As if he could read _her mind._

_The fool. Her fool.

* * *

_

_One Hundred and Eleventy One Years later...

* * *

_

"C-c_hest hurts!" _Ranma wailed, pain stealing the coherency of her words. The voice was one that none of the family had ever heard from Ranma before. Agony in its purest form, and they hadn't the slightest idea what had caused it.

The redhaired girl lay sprawled on the couch in the front room. The cushioned article of furniture was caked in a layer of sweat, but that did nothing to stop the girl's half mad thrashing. The girl snatched away from Nabiki's grip, sweat coated limb sliding from the mercenary girl's fingers yet again, and hovered over her heart protectively. The redhead's fingers clawed at her chest, scrabbling through skin and raking bits of blood out of her already raw skin. She rocked side to side, heedless of the people trying to hold her still.

_"I-It hurts!" _Came another of the few decipherable moans the girl had uttered since this whole ordeal began.

_"Just what the hell...?" _Came the thoughts of one Nabiki Tendo, as she, her father, Ranma's father, and Kasumi all tried to hold the thrashing girl still while Dr. Tofu huddled beneath them.

Honestly, it was all the mercenary could do to hold on, as she and Kasumi both grabbed the arm once more and pulled it out again, struggling to keep the redhead from clutching at her chest and getting in the way of the doctor. Unsuccessfully.

"And you said...!" The doctor wheezed, before he was interrupted by a sudden shift in the girl's midriff, stabbing himself in the eye with some tool he'd been using. "Ow!" The man jerked. "...Ah... you said... he's been like this for three hours!" He yelled over Ranma's moaning, rubbing his eye in frustration.

It was somewhat hard to hear over the rustling of limbs and clothes. Genma held both Ranma's feet, somehow managing to do a decent job of keeping them immobilized while Nabiki saw her father struggling with the girl's other arm. And _still_ having more luck than she and Kasumi were.

_"What in the world have you done to yourself now, Saotome...?" _Nabiki thought, as she took a spare moment to wipe sweat off her forehead.

"Graaahhh, Dammit boy!" Came a heated grunt of dissatisfaction from Ranma's father. "Stop acting like such a girl!"

Ranma didn't even seem to be aware of the insult, let alone capable of responding. Instead she just moaned on, in her deliriousness. "Makeitstop, makitstop... please makeitstop..." The words slurred together in a tone of agony that stabbed at Nabiki's guilt center.

Ranma was a stupid guy most the time. He was a glutton for pain and thrill, the practical definition of joyride, and oftentimes the most unbearable prick Nabiki had ever met in her nineteen years of life. However, if one thing could be said about Ranma, it was that he was tough. _Unbelievably tough._

_'If he's acting like this...? What the _hell_ happened to him?' _She thought again. If she weren't so busy trying to hold down his feminine arm, she would have been tempted to glance at the girl's chest. She wouldn't have been all that surprised to see a bullet wound.

Ten bullet wounds. She knew the blood there came from her frantic pawing, but still... this was more than some heart burn. '_Akane's cooking had never done anything this bad...'_

"Stupid boy!" Genma screamed. And without warning, fed up with the whole issue, Genma let loose the girl's legs. Darting from nowhere, a sign appeared between his fingers. Crafted of the finest wood the oft-panda man had ever made, he slammed the sign into his currently female son's head with a resounding crack, as the wood splintered on the redhead's skull.

The girl's limbs fell like bricks, deadweight to the sopping wet cushions as she slipped into blessed unconsciousness. All of them guiltily breathed a sigh of tangible relief.

"Why the _hell_ didn't you do that earlier!" Nabiki shouted, when she'd finally caught her breath.

Genma turned to her, and surprisingly, gave a glare that the actually intimidated Nabiki somewhat. His voice cold with anger at the unknown, and fear that a parent held for his child. Even Genma. "Because, _girl_, I'm not exactly fond of giving my son concussions."

Nabiki blinked at the surprising show of affection. Abruptly her mind returned to the _last_ time Ranma was hit on the head. Those results were... disturbing to say the least. It was a measure of his worry that Genma was willing to subject the pigtailed martial artist to that possible occurrence rather than let her keep bucking. Or... maybe he was just fed up with holding the squirming girl's legs. Either way, the man's eyes left her quickly, migrating back to his daughter. His anger wilted down into a heavily masked visage of worry. Nabiki's own eyes quickly followed, watching the red-haired girl. She hadn't completely stopped moving.

Her chest rose and sunk in heaves, gasps of air leaving her wide hanging mouth like burstfire bullets of breath. Unconsciousness had only stopped her flailing it seemed. But whatever ailed her... well... it still ailed her.

"What's wrong with him Dr. Tofu?" Kasumi asked, and for a wonder, the doctor's glasses didn't even show a hint of their usual fog.

"I... I don't know, Kasumi. I don't think I've ever seen anything like this."

Dr. Tofu, meanwhile, had righted his glasses. He was looking over the still heavily breathing girl at an almost frantic pace, worry tinging all of his features. "I... think this might be beyond me."

It took a moment for the family to process that. Very few injuries and maladies were beyond Tofu Ono. From the obscure curse in China, to the regular every day scabbed shin's Dr. Tofu had been a genius. Well worthy of his own private clinic and probably better suited to running his own hospital, they'd always felt lucky to have him. In fact, it had been so long since any of the Tendo's had gone to another doctor that, the thought caused a momentary lapse in their speech abilities.

And brought back uncomfortable memories of the Tendo's missing Matriarch.

"Th-the hospital then?" Nabiki was the first to recover but her words were shaken. Whatever this was, it wasn't normal.

Luckily, the young doctor shook his head. "I... I believe matriarch Cologne might be better able to figure this out. Normally, I'd say yes to the hospital. But since this is Ranma we're talking about... I've seen Ranma. He doesn't just randomly get sick, with the immune system he has. Not like this..."

"Taidama!" Came a voice from the door, and all eyes turned.

"Akane?"

"Eh? Dr. Tofu? What are you doing he-! Ranma!" The girl dropped her bookbags and gasped in shock, but it only lasted a moment. "What happened?"

Nabiki hardly saw the girl move, instead staring momentarily at an afterimage as Akane materialized beside her, hovering over Ranma and her bloody chest. _'Great... _now_ she shows up.' _In her head, Nabiki couldn't help the sarcasm, even in the midst of her worry. It was ridiculous! For hours they'd been trying to hold the squirmy girl down and only _after_ the panda renders Ranma unconscious did his gorilla strengthened fiancée decide to appear! Bah...

Ranma hadn't stopped her heavy breathing but it had slowed a bit. A small bit. Even so, the repetitious droning of her sharp breaths, as if the girl had just run thirty miles nonstop, gnawed at Nabiki. Her mother had once breathed like that...

It was discomforting.

Nabiki shook off the intense vertigo, instead deciding to try to be helpful. "I'll call Cologne if you like?"

Tofu had not stopped looking the girl over, and now scrutinized her in ways that Nabiki _would _consider utterly lecherous on any other man. Luckily, if there was any man she trusted, it was Tofu Ono. "If you would, Nabiki." He said distractedly. From somewhere or other he had procured a sponge and was cleaning off Ranma's chest as Akane watched in a strange sort of fascination. Nabiki could see why. It wasn't ever day you saw the toughest person around panting and unconscious while blood oozed from the claw marks striping his chest.

Nabiki blinked.

By god there were tears coming out of the girl's eyes! What in the _hell_ could Ranma have gotten himself into this time?

It seemed she'd been asking herself that alot lately.

As she dialed the Nekohaunten, she wondered what this latest problem was... and how Ranma the invincible would get out of it.

* * *

Ryoga ducked. The punch whistled through the air with an audible snap, the speed of it cracking through the sound barrier. Weaving beneath the follow up roundhouse kick, Ryoga proceeded to block the flurry of punches, and whirlwind of back hand strikes.

All around them the clatters Ryoga's opponents missed hits echoed throughout the dank hallway. Each punch the man sent at the bandana-clad boy shattering more of the fine relics and ancient artifacts hidden within the confines of this desert labyrinth.

"Listen buddy! I didn't mean to piss you off!" Ryoga echoed, a sweat drop trailing down his face.

Still grinning, he cocked his head to the right. The knuckled fist slammed into the wall behind Ryoga, making craters of stone in the age old stone. The cursed boy couldn't help but grin as his opponent winced. Slamming his fist into century old sandstone? God that had to hurt.

His opponent was a man, probably late twenties if Ryoga had to guess, but his face was hidden utterly by a white cloth. Baggy shirt and pants that concealed him in the same sandy white, the man was clearly a genius at martial arts. It was doubtful that there were any better in a hundred mile radius or more. Ryoga had met few who were equal to the man in all his travels. But...

_'He's still got nothing on Ranma.' _

"You're making a-!" Ryoga shuffled back, just out of reach of the man's hi palm strike. "-Mistake!" He twisted, leaping the next roundhouse kick above to cling to the torch holster hung on the side of one of the countless stone pillars in the torch lit antechamber.

"I'm just trying to-!" The man growled in anger, directing a sharp glare towards Ryoga, before taking aim again, spearing his fingers, he sliced his hand through the pillar. A molecular slice seemed to light the stone only seconds before it erupted in a cacophony of cracks and echoes. Ryoga's precarious perch crumbled as the pillar collapsed on itself. Thinking fast, Ryoga bounded moments before his footing was lost entirely, arcing over the guardian's head to land softly on a one of the few stairs leading towards a long hallway.

"Directions! Show me the exit and I'll go!" Ryoga echoed, putting his hands up in a stalling motion.

The guardian would have none of it, his eyebrow clearly twitching beneath his mask in unerring irritation. Most likely because the man had already _shown_ Ryoga the exit. Three times. After the fourth the bastard simply _wouldn't_ see reason. But hell, it wasn't Ryoga's fault the man kept directing him to the tomb's riches chambers! Hell, shouldn't those things be walled off from intruders and wanderers like himself anyways? Bah.

_"Stupid tomb guardians have no damn patience."_

Turning his shaded face to the side, the man reached down, and to Ryoga's surprise, picked up the staff Ryoga had disarmed him of almost two minutes before hand.

_'Oh hell...' _Ryoga thought exasperatedly, just now noting that most of their battle had been a distraction so the man could maneuver himself back to the staff. _'That thing stings like a...!'_

There was no time to finish the thought as the man jabbed, instantly picking up his Silambam style of fighting now that his weapon had been recovered. Ryoga grunted as the blunt end of the staff impacted his hard stomach, and stumbled a few steps back as the weapon began its whirl.

"Look, I'm sick of playing games...!" Ryoga drawled, his anger finally spilling over the fringes of the calm he sported. Truly, the guardian was as silent as a stalker. It was an invigorating experience to face a decent fighter who didn't taunt the hell out of him. Hell it was almost unnerving.

Abruptly, something slammed into his cheek, rocketing his face to the side, blood spraying from his unprepared lips. Staggering back a few more steps, Ryoga turned back to the guardian. A glare touched his eyes. He'd been dodging for what seemed like eons now, trying to convince the guardian that whatever he was protecting, Ryoga didn't want it! But it had been no use; the man still spun his staff, a wicked quick weapon that Ryoga had no hope of dodging. His lips were hidden but Ryoga could sense a smirk from a mile away. The staff spun faster than a tornado, and Ryoga had no hope of following its unbelievable path with his eyes.

But... Ryoga wasn't much for dodging anyways.

Wiping the blood off his cheek and busted lower lip with the back of his hand, he fell into the default stance for the Hibiki family style of martial arts. The first stance he'd taken since meeting this mysterious guardian.

_"Fine. If that's how you wanna play, don't say I didn't warn you." _

The grin the guardian hid behind that damn white mask almost seemed to brighten. Then Ryoga curled his fingers around his headband.

The white clad fighter's eyes widened as a barrage of whirling projectiles were suddenly flying at him at all levels of visibility. His whirling staff caught the first at eye level. The second, he snagged with his left hand, wincing as the missile sliced into the pliant flesh of his palm. The third, zooming in towards his ankles like a boomerang with a sharp whistle, was also blocked by his staff.

The forth sliced off his mask at the ear.

A sandy haired man, with a face that one could compliment by calling ugly, stared at Ryoga from where the mask had fallen. Teeth, dulled and blackened by an age of living in the desert snarled at Ryoga, and the man's eyes seemed ready to kill...

...just before Ryoga's haymaker bludgeoned the ugly face with a sickening crunch breaking his nose and sending the man flying through three pillars, embedding him solidly into the wall at the far end of the underground chamber.

_"Well that was stupid." _Ryoga thought boorishly. Idly, he walked up to the unconscious fellow and stared long and hard at him. Then, he nabbed the waterskin around the man's belt. "Finders keepers." He said, taunting the ugly guardian before turning around towards the hallway that led out of the antechamber.

Or at least... he hoped it did. There was only _one_ of them after all.

_"God I can't wait to fight Ranma again." _He thought, shocked at his own thoughts, but not denying them. It had been almost a week since he'd last seen the pigtailed martial artist. And sadly, he had yet to meet any fighter who gave him such a challenge. The only problem with that was... well... _it was goddamn Ranma._

_"Why can't I ever find a good fighter who _doesn't_ make fun of me? Anyone would be better than that casanova! If they were just good enough... I hardly remember what a good spar is like. He just makes me so damn mad!"_ It was true. He didn't remember what a good spar was like. Every battle he had with Ranma always ended with half forgotten memories of a rage Ryoga was simply unable to control around the gender-changing fighter. The pigtailed martial artist's style was _based_ around pissing people off, and no one knew how to push Ryoga Hibiki's rage button better than Ranma Saotome.

_"What I wouldn't do for a good, level headed fight."_ He thought, giving one more disappointed stare to the defeated guardian before his form disappeared completely in the dim firelight.

Ryoga walked on.

A strange tingle tickled the back of his mind. Very strange... a high pitched sound, just barely heard. The writhing of an ant dying miles beneath the earth. But strangely, Ryoga knew where the sound was. He'd been hearing it for days. Feeling it for eons it seemed, and he'd been moving _away _from it. The sensation was like a cricket that wouldn't shut up and let him sleep; it was a camera light that kept flashing in the corner of his vision.

Frankly, it was becoming unbelievably annoying. But going _away _from the source, whatever it was, was only making the damnable itching sound in the back of his head call out louder. Instead of a cricket it was a noisy cat. Instead of a camera, a set of head beams.

The worst part about the whole thing was that every now and then, he thought he could hear a high pitched scream. Like that of someone dying. The sound... _chilled _him.

_"Alright. I might as well find out whatever this thing is. God it's getting annoying..." _Ryoga thought gruffly.

Turning, he began to follow in the direction the odd noise in his head lead him.

* * *

Ranma was conscious. Every part of her ached, but the pain was becoming bearable again... That was her body probably, releasing endorphins to numb the utter agony she'd felt before. That and the drugs she'd felt _someone_ rubbing into her skin. She'd drank something too, and she could vaguely recall that it had been vile. The pain was so much worse than any taste could ever measure up to though. Stabbing her all over like a thousand hot irons poking her ever body part. While one giant one stabbed at her heart.

Even now, in a drug induced high her heart still burned. The pain felt as if her heart had been thrown into a kiln and roasted on the highest possible temperature. Then, fried on something hotter.

Sweat soaked her forehead and her breathing was ragged, but she was aware. The pain hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. She could manage... She was Ranma-goddamn-Saotome, and whatever this sickness was, she was going to beat the living hell out of it...

...Or god she hoped she was. For now, though...?

It hurt. It hurt like hell.

"Oh Ranma... Please be okay..." Came a soft voice.

Ranma could see, but everything was blurred. There were faces and eyes hovering around her. Too many eyes... they blended together, but all the distinct ones were present. Ukyo and her black orbs. But the voice had been Akane's. Scanning the other way, her eyes found chocolate brown irises. They were worried, and wet.

"Hey... 'kane." She murmured. She reached and saw, rather than felt, her hand touch Akane Tendo's cheek in a soft caress, blindly wiping away the wetness. "Don' cry. You ain't got the face for it... tomboy. You neither Shamps." Her eyes had trouble focusing again, but anyone could recognize that neon purple hair hovering in behind Akane's tear-strewn face.

Ranma felt the humor or watching Akane smolder. She knew it hurt the girl's feeling but dammit it was so much _fun_ to watch her heat up. For a sparse few seconds the unbearable pain eased... in the laughter of the moment. Then she let out a moan of agony and clutched at her heart again. Akane's fiery visage died in an instant.

_'He's still got nothing on Ranma.' _

Confused, Ranma turned at the sound of the voice, and was met once more with only Ukyo's eyes. The voice seemed... distant. Vague. But Ranma would recognize that annoyed inflection anywhere. The only fighter in Nerima who gave as good as he got and always came back for more, and never stayed stagnant, instead improving just as Ranma did. Still second best, of course.

"Ryoga...? What're you...?" Ranma moaned wearily as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

_"Stupid tomb guardians have no damn patience." _

Akane, Ukyo, and Shampoo shared a furtive glance at that. "Ranma Honey? Ryoga isn't here. D-did he maybe, do this to you? Was it him?" Ukyo tentatively asked, her worry rising in spades.

It hadn't taken her long to discover that Ranma had been sick, and she'd immediately closed up shop in order to be at her fiancé's side. But these delusions... fever dreams? The girl had been talking in her sleep, and when she'd finally woken up Ukyo's worry had only increased. Something was definitely wrong, but she knew assuming this was Ryoga's fault was grasping for straws. Ranma and Ryoga were rivals, and despite Ryoga's constant death threats, none of them thought the Lost Boy could actually harm Ranma.

Not like this...

"Ryoga wouldn't do this!" Akane retorted, voicing Ukyo's own thoughts. "Ryoga and Ranma may not get along, but he'd never do this..."

The girl's words filtered through Ranma's mind, and a snide retort came to her lips, but faded as her head lulled, focus coming in and out. What the hell was she laying on? The back of her neck felt so warm, and the heat was unbearable. "It's so hot in here... I'm _burning_."

That was greeted with an almost instant reaction. Whatever had been holding her head up suddenly removed itself. She found a cool pillow replacing whatever it had been propping her head before, and suddenly air was flowing over her sweat stained body. It felt _marvelous..._

"Ggggg..." She moaned, an abysmal effort to get out the word '_good.' _The faces of her fiancée's seemed to relax a bit at that, so she must have gotten her impression across.

_'Oh hell... That thing stings like a...!' _Ryoga's voice sounded once more, and Ranma turned, trying to find the source.

From what she could tell the room was white. _"Probably Tofu's clinic,"_ her dazed mind surmised.

"Aiyah..." Shampoo intoned in her usual manner. Worry was the emotion stapled across her face, all of their faces. The purple haired girl held a fan with the air blowing cooling across Ranma's boiling frame, and Ranma had trouble recalling a time when he was more grateful to the Amazon.

"Oh dear... Son in Law what under the Goddess have you done to yourself this time?" The crackly voice of an old woman twitched in her ears. Turning back to where Ukyo had been before, she found the frog-like wide eyes of Shampoo's great grandmother. She didn't growl, exactly. The groan she released could've been taken as a groan of pain. The old woman knew better.

She hardly felt the pop of the old woman's staff as it lightly tapped her forehead.

"Remove your hands from your chest, son-in-law. I know you have the strength for this. Do it." The old woman's tone became deadly serious in a matter of moments, and to her shock, Ranma realized that her hand _had_ been resting on her chest. And... they were wet?

She pulled her fingers away, wincing as a new wave of agony set in with the release. But as the old woman had said, she had the strength for this... pulling her fingers to her eyes, she cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "Blood?" She voiced, staring at her bleeding fingers. "Did I do that?"

She didn't hear the gasp the girls let out as she stared at her fingers, wonderingly.

_"Fine. If that's how you wanna play, don't say I didn't warn you." _Ryoga again. Where the hell _was_ the lost boy? Who was he talking to? Suddenly, a blare of pain stabbed into her, rendering her thoughts of the pig-boy and his strange conversation away from the forefront of her mind.

"God, it fucking hurts!" She yelled, using what little strength she had to crane her neck down, and spot Cologne's small hands touching her. Her chest was a bloody mess. Scrabbled tatters of her shirt still clung to her but only barely as she tried to make sense of what had happened to her. What was causing her so much pain.

"What is that thing? C-Cologne? Do you...?" Akane's voice was burdened with an undertone of anger beneath her worry. What thing? What was she talking about?

"I have no idea." Cologne answered calmly. "Son in law, I don't suppose this is a new fashion trend of some sort?" The old woman intoned with a slightly humorous tint in her voice. Ranma didn't feel like laughing.

Her voice was stolen by lack of breath and she was forced to heave her lungs again, but she managed to respond. "...The hell you talking about?"

"Look, Son in law." The old woman intoned, grabbing a mirror from the top of a nearby desk. Yes. This was the back office at Tofu's clinic. She recognized it now as her vision slowly started to clear. Quickly, her vision of the ceiling was blocked by the mirror behind held above her, showing her a full view of her ripped shirt and bloody chest.

"Wh-what?" She asked, still unclear as to what was wrong.

Cologne sighed, realizing the problem quickly, she turned and motioned to her great granddaughter. Shampoo reacted almost instantly and had a glass of water held out to Cologne before Ranma could follow what was going on.

"Ack!" Ranma let out a yelp as the water poured over her chest, freezing her and chilling her to the bone, washing the blood away onto the light mattress and the floor below. The blood clearing away, the mirror showed what the abnormality was. There, on her chest, Ranma saw what had worried them all. Beneath the blood that her fingernails had dragged out of her chest, embedded half within her skin, just over her heart was a teardrop shaped gemstone. An ivory pearl.

_"Well that was stupid." _

"What the hell is that thing...?" Ranma asked, mimicking Akane's earlier question, and ignoring Ryoga's words. Wherever the hell he was, he didn't seem to be paying her much attention. Maybe he was talking with the doctor or something, just beyond the door? Oh well. Not important.

"I surmised as much..." Cologne answered. "She doesn't know either. Whatever that thing is, I'd bet half my restaurant that it is the source of your pain Son-in-Law."

Blood was already pooling around the pearl just above her heart, and despite the cool feel of the water and the fan, a hot burn was already returning to her insides. "It's... starting again. These drugs are wearing off already." She breathed, glad her words were coherent.

_"God I can't wait to fight Ranma again..."_  
_  
_A twisted expression crossed Ranma's face, and it was all she could do not to actively blanch. The pain even almost faded in the sheer strangeness of the comment. "_...Huh?" _

_"Why can't I ever find a good fighter who _doesn't_ make fun of me? Anyone would be better than that casanova! If they were just good enough... I hardly remember what a good spar is like. He just makes me so damn mad!"_

Ranma let lose a gasp at the wash of cold water that poured over her chest once more. Her breath was running ragged again, and the gem, like a white crystalline creature growing out of her chest, was beginning to pulse. Ryoga's voice was fading into the background. Pain was overcoming her senses. She screamed, but reigned her voice in fiercely, her will overcoming the intense pressure.

Without warning, she felt a sharp stab in her arm, and with it flooded an almost instantaneous rush of relief.

"Wouldn't make fun of ya... If it weren't so much damn fun..." Ranma breathed, her eyes hazing over as blackness began to flick at the edges of her vision.

_"What I wouldn't give for a good, level headed fight." _The lost boy's voice sounded. Still not talking to her. Who the hell... was he... talking...?

Thought became difficult as the last fringes of consciousness began to seep from Ranma's body. Her eyes closed.

_"Alright. I might as well find out whatever this thing is. God it's getting annoying..." _

Ranma knew no more.

* * *

End Chapter


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